The cafe grew quieter as the afternoon thinned into early evening.
Most of the students who'd trickled in after their classes had now filed out, replaced by occasional murmurs and the rustling of newspapers. Outside the window, the sky turned a paler shade of gray.
Elian sat motionless, his fingers still loosely holding the edge of the ceramic mug. The woman, Selene, hadn't said much since their strange exchange. She hadn't needed to. Her presence alone felt like a disruption of everything Elian thought he knew.
"You're not joking, are you?" he asked at last. His voice was low, almost unsure.
"No," Selene replied calmly. "But I don't expect you to believe me. Not yet."
Elian studied her again. She didn't look out of place in any literal way no futuristic armor or flashing lights, no obvious tells that screamed "time traveler." But there was something about her like she didn't quite belong to the rules of now.
Her posture, the way she chose her words, the distant sorrow behind her otherwise composed face.
"Then prove it," he said, folding his arms. "If what you're saying is real... prove it to me."
Selene offered a faint smile. "I will. But there's something you need to understand first."
She leaned forward across the table. "This isn't a game. It's not a sightseeing tour or a thrill ride through ancient ruins. Time is alive. It breathes. It remembers. And every journey we make has a price."
Elian wanted to scoff, but something in her eyes silenced the cynicism forming in his throat. "And what price have you paid?"
Selene's gaze dropped momentarily to the table. "More than you can imagine."
The way she said it chilled him more than if she had listed losses or shown scars. It was the silence that lingered after the weight of years unsaid.
"I'm not a historian," Elian admitted, shifting. "I'm just... obsessed. I read. I think. I get lost in what was. But I don't know if I'm the kind of person who's meant to change history or even touch it."
"You're not meant to change it," Selene said. "You're meant to understand it."
Elian blinked. "And what does that mean?"
Selene tilted her head slightly. "You feel it, don't you? The call of the past. The way some moments from history haunt you, as if asking to be remembered. It's not just curiosity. It's connection."
He nodded slowly, caught off guard by the accuracy of her words.
"I've seen thousands of years pass in seconds," she continued, her tone turning colder, heavier. "Empires crumbling. Artists creating beauty they would never see appreciated. Children playing in streets that wouldn't exist tomorrow. People... real people... who never got their story told."
"And you want me to see it too?" Elian asked.
"No," she said softly. "I think you need to see it."
Silence settled again. The kind that fills a room before a choice is made.
Finally, Elian reached for his journal, the worn leather creaking beneath his fingers.
"Then tell me how."
Selene looked at him for a long moment, as if deciding whether he was truly ready.
Then she opened her coat and removed a small object wrapped in silk cloth. She set it between them and slowly unwrapped it.
It looked like a compass at first glance small, circular, polished bronze but instead of cardinal directions, it had concentric rings inscribed with symbols Elian didn't recognize.
They seemed to shimmer subtly, as if reacting to light that wasn't there.
"This is the Key," she said.
"To a time machine?" he asked skeptically.
"No. To the fabric of time itself."
"Of course," he muttered. But even he couldn't deny the strangeness of the object before him.
Selene's fingers gently traced the edge of the device. "When you hold it and concentrate when you truly want to see this will open the way."
"Open to what?"
"To where history still lives."
He stared at it. "And what's the catch?"
"The moment you step through," Selene said quietly, "you change. Forever."
Elian sat back in his seat, absorbing the words. He didn't know if he believed her yet. Not fully. But belief wasn't always the first step. Sometimes it was curiosity. And right now, curiosity burned hotter than doubt.
"I'll do it," he said.
Selene smiled again, but this time there was something else beneath the smile.
Something sad.
"You remind me of someone," she whispered.
"Who?" he asked.
"Someone who once wanted to listen."
With that, she took the Key, rewrapped it in silk, and stood.
"Meet me here tomorrow. Just after sunset. If you're still sure."
And before he could ask another question, she turned and walked out of the cafe, the bell above the door giving a single soft chime as if sealing a contract.
Elian didn't move for a while. He just stared at the empty space she had left behind.
Outside, the clouds finally began to part, a thin streak of amber sunlight breaking through.
Tomorrow, the past would speak.
And he would listen.